


For the good of...

by Drowsybadger



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Break, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, CC-2224 | Cody is a Good Uncle, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Light Angst, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Non-Graphic Violence, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Presumed Dead, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowsybadger/pseuds/Drowsybadger
Summary: Cody, guilt-plagued and still hopelessly in love with Obi-Wan, finds a young man quite similar in appearance to his deceased crush, and in hopes of bringing something useful to the Empire to light (that’s what he tells himself, anyways), investigates.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Korkie Kryze, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi (one-sided), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze (mentioned)
Kudos: 29





	For the good of...

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Mentions of: suicide, minor mentions of alcohol and drug abuse/addictions, violence. A little cursing (one f-bomb). 
> 
> Not much to say, except that the friendship potential Korkie and Cody have is underused. 
> 
> Writing this fic, I enjoyed letting my inner Satine out and blending her with an overwhelmed teenager/young adult.
> 
> I sprinkled in a little Foxiyo because that ship took me out of nowhere like most of you and now, I can’t resist referencing it when given the chance. And since Riyo has a minor role in this...
> 
> You get where I’m going. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars and all affiliated franchises, all rights go to Lucasfilm and by extension, Disney.

Cody was very thankful not to be part of the Coruscant Guard. If he were, Vader would probably have murdered him for disloyalty or incompetence by now. Like Fox.

He had heard something about Fox’s girl, Senator Riyo Chuchi of Pantora, effectively stepping back from her seat of power and inciting rebellion five years earlier, when the grief and anger had become too much. She had been aided by a man who reportedly exited the Mandalorian senator’s apartments earlier. It was a shame. She had been popular with the clones and known to be kind to all in need. All-around, the model of an Imperial citizen.

Then again, she had been friends with Ahsoka Tano, so perhaps she had not been quite such a model Imperial citizen after all, even before defecting.

Thire, one of the few of them who had not taken his life, defected, or submitted to addictions in the years following Order 66, had told him about the incident and its connection to the man Cody was currently investigating. The man who had aided Riyo Chuchi in her little rebellion, later escape, and still remained as good as anonymous despite everybody claiming they knew exactly who he was yet refusing to give up his name. It was strange. Everybody could remember loose details of his face, but never his true appearance or name.

And here he was, in the Senate building, lurking over the security cameras, trying to unravel the mystery that was this mysterious Mandalorian.

From what Cody had heard, he was young, well-trained, aristocratic – all things you would expect of a senator - and quite stereotypically Stewjoni, with his auburn hair, pale skin, blue eyes and way of holding himself (why that mattered, Cody could not understand) – something you did not expect of a _Mandalorian,_ diverse as they were.

The part of Cody that wasn’t in denial knew that these blue eyes seemed to did not seem to be able to decide what exact shade they were, sometimes greenish, sometimes greyish. A much larger part of him, the one that was in denial, did not want to acknowledge that these were all traits particular to a certain High Jedi General. No surprise there, since said general _was_ Stewjoni and not just accused of being such by the rumour mills.

The part of him that didn’t believe there still was a chance for him. For both of them. The other side knew the truth and knew _exactly_ who the elusive Mandalorian was from status and description alone.

It had taken him some time to find footage that showed enough of the man’s face and proved his affiliations with Chuchi and her little rebellion. The senate building was _very large_ , after all.

_‘That’s why you could’ve just looked up the senator and affiliates on the holonet or in the archives. But you’ll procrastinate even something as simple as this to avoid the pain,”_ that little voice whispered to him as he stared at the footage:

_A young man, dressed in a simple, but elegant dark blue dress shirt, the tips of his reddish-blond hair a stark platinum blond,_ _was sitting in a Senate office with his back to the camera. From their body language, Cody could tell he was chatting with a Mandalorian bodyguard and Senator Chuchi._

From the red-and-white helmet sitting on a shelf by the sofa, this must be Chuchi’s office, and shortly after some poor shiny had delivered Fox’s helmet and belongings to her. None of the clones had wanted them. The 501st resented him in particular, and most who had been to the front lines resented the Corries. The Corries in turn would never have been granted the permission or peace of holding onto their fallen commander’s things. Which led to his girlfriend receiving them. She had taken them with her after she left.

The helmet in the office meant this recording was from shortly before she made her rebellious speech in front of the senate.

Cody turned up the volume.

_“-not wise. It’s too risky for you to do this now. Wait until we have more allies for our cause.”_

_“Korkie, you’re a good kid, but I don’t think you of all people should be advising me on being reckless. Besides, you’re not even a senator yet. You can’t influence anything.”_ That was something on their mystery man. A first name.

_The guard nodded. The senator turned to look at him, probably to listen to him talk, but the helmet muffled his voice._

_“I mean, I suppose that would work. Good idea, Cap,” the other Mandalorian commended._

_“I’ll see to it. You still have that clunky old ship?” Chuchi’s attention switched to ‘Korkie’, who turned a little sideways to reach for a small satchel, giving Cody a view of pale skin and a familiar nose._ So familiar that Cody rehearsed the recording. He must be seeing things. The PTSD must finally be getting to him, he told himself, and studied every little bump in the young man’s nose bridge.

_‘No,’_ he realised, ‘ _his nose was different. This one’s too pointy. A bit too straight. Much more like... Hers_.’ Which wasn’t much better.

_The recording continued on its disastrous way._ Cody wondered how nobody had found the trio when they were discussing their plans in the open like that. Caution seemed to be something politicians and Jedi alike lacked.

_“Yeah. Might need to fuel her up, but yeah, I’ve got a ship for you.”_

_The young man pulled a key from the satchel and handed it to the Pantoran senator, turning back to face her._

_“Thanks. Let’s get going and try not to die, m‘kay?”_

_“Yes, Mum,” he grumbled with all the zeal of a sarcastic teenager. His co-conspirator lightly thwacked him over the head for that._

_He laughed, and Riyo rolled her eyes._ A sweet friendship.

_The guard said something and got up. The young man nodded and said his good-byes to Chuchi before standing and leaving with the guard._

Cody turned the recording off. This wasn’t helping him. He should just go visit the Mandalorian apartments himself. They were, after all, constantly guarded due to ‘Korkie’. Paying a visit might help him clear the ‘mystery’. And he’d have to do it soon. He had already almost forgotten how to piece the young man’s face together correctly. _His_ nose and brow fell continuously into the empty spaces.

He left the security office to seek out the Mandalorian apartments.

* * *

Tensing up, Cody rapped his knuckles against the door.

It slid open. Cody felt his breath catch in his throat. The hair, the eyes, the low brow, the jaw, the nose, everything – he had to be hallucinating. Even the build was the same. Cody was glad for his helmet. ‘ _Can’t let the civvies see you flustered and flabbergasted, eh?’_

"Is there a problem, err," the redhead scratched his chin, racking his brain for the right title, _"_ Commander?" the young man finished, his ears tinged red with embarrassment.

Cody's mind went blank for a heartbeat. He forgot how to talk cohesively. The only thing his mind screamed was how much this man looked like General Kenobi and how much it _hurt_.

_‘_ You _killed Kenobi. An_ innocent _man who probably never even had any involvement in that Jedi plot. A_ good man _who always placed others before himself. So much that you had to force him to sleep when he overworked himself for you and everyone else,’_ his treacherous mind whispered. Cody felt sick with guilt. So often had he thought of just... Ending the pain. Or drinking away his troubles. But he didn’t. He kept by his habits. For his brothers, and to honour the memory of those lost.

"Perhaps, sir. I would like to ask you a few questions,” he managed at last.

The young man poked his head out the door, looking up and down the corridor - checking for a potential trap? – before nodding and letting Cody in.

"Alright, have a seat.” He gestured to a plush navy sofa with a magnificent view of the city. Two armchairs sat on either side of it, a napping tooka curled up in one, and side table piled high with holodisks, books and paperwork was next to the other. The glass coffee table had a small potted lily on it. “If you don’t mind, please leave any and all weapons at the door."

Cody did as requested and placed his helmet on the table as the young man asked: "Would you like some tea? My aunt always said you should offer your guests something. I promised her to stay away from alcohol, so tea or caf is the only real stuff I have right now."

Why do that? Yes, alcohol could be dangerous, and it was sweet of him to honour his aunt’s wishes, but why stay away from any and all alcohol? This kid was a Mandalorian, after all, they drank _ti’haar_ and Corellian whiskey like it was nothing!

‘ _Unless... There’s a history of low tolerance, or even addiction. Personal trauma perhaps. Maybe her spouse was an abusive alcoholic?’_

"No, thanks. Just water, please. Clear." He paused, then asked: “And your aunt... You’re close to her?”

The young man nodded, walked over to the small kitchenette, fetching a glass, and filling it with water.

“Yeah. At least until that piece of _osik_ Maul killed her,” he explained as he set down the glass on the coffee table.

_‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence’_ , the in-denial voice told him.

Cautiously, he asked: “Your aunt was the Duchess Satine?!”

The young man nodded slowly and sat down on the edge of the tooka-armchair.

“The Lady Bo-Katan is your mother then, I presume?”

“No. My parents died when I was a few months old, in an attack on Sundari.”

“So the Duchess has raised you for your whole life?”

“Yes, but why does that matter?”

That threw away all hopes he might have had of it being a coincidence. The out-of-denial voice cheered, and the in-denial voice ran a mile a minute trying to find a plausible alternative.

Satine’s nephew, with no memory of his parents, raised by Satine and with a strong physical resemblance to the General?

_‘Really’_ , the out-of-denial voice chided, _‘you might be a di’kut at times, and maybe even a little reckless, but even a blind man could see this. This was General Kenobi’s so!’_

_‘The General had never met his son. He didn’t even know he existed. And now I’ll have to tell this kid his parents are dead, but not in the way he thinks!’_

The not-quite-so-much-in-denial-anymore part of him was panicking.

And Cody knew he’d be damned if he did not take proper care of this kid.

He owed that much to The General, and perhaps even to Satine, for being there for that _Jetii_ when Cody wasn’t.

The young man’s – Prince Korkie’s? Duke Korkie‘s? Lord Kryze‘s? Governor Kryze’s? Senator? Whatever his rank was, he was aristocracy – mouth was set in a firm line, and his brows knit together tightly. Cody didn’t know if he was putting on an annoyed expression, an angered one, a confused one, or just one of many “politician faces”.

Cody suddenly felt worried and unsure. How to tell this man that he thought his late aunt was his mother and that he had been lied to his entire life? That Cody had killed his father?

He found himself stumbling over his next words.

“It matters... Because I killed your father.”

The young man opposite him arched his eyebrow at him in a way that made Cody regret even coming here as he felt his eyes sting.

“You’re a clone and that was over twenty years ago. You couldn’t have been there!”

“Your _biological_ father, your Highness.”

“Who is dead, like I said, _Commander_.” He got up and put the kettle on. “Now, if the only reason you’re here is to make delusional claims, I must kindly ask you to leave.”

“Your Highness, are you familiar High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi? The GRA’s 7th Sky Corps and I operated under him.”

The young man frowned and nodded, taking a cup from a cupboard.

“Yes, I’ve heard of him and his escapades, even in a neutral system like Mandalore. He was... Quite a favourite of my aunt’s.”

The general had that effect on people.

Cody knew about it from the poor sods who had had to deal with General Vos too often.

“Did she talk about him much?”

“Too much. But she didn’t have any pictures, nor did she ever let me meet him.”

“Do you know why?”

“She probably thought he’d be a ‘bad influence’ or something like that.” He laughed. “Perhaps she just thought he wasn’t _important enough_ for me to meet him.”

_‘’‘Not important enough’’ – and depriving a child of his most certainly loving father was?’_

“Well, I believe she might have had another reason.” Cody pulled out his most loathed and precious possession: a holo taken of the general and the 212th after their victory on Ryloth. “See here!”

The young man looked over from the kitchen and squinted at the holo before shaking his head and continuing to rummage through a large wooden box.

“I’m sorry, Commander. I can’t see anything on that holo from over here. Would you be so kind as to wait until I have my tea prepared?”

It was agonising to watch the young Kryze mill about, humming a little tune as he sorted through the cupboard in search of whatever he needed. It took three minutes for him to finish preparing his tea (with biscuits and the tiniest squirt of lemon!). Three minutes of _pain_.

That man could have been a clone of the general.

And Cody _wished_ he'd gone for caf.

Black caf like they made in the barracks' cantina. Strong enough to grow your chest hair to five inches, make you forget who you were and give you ten heart attacks at once, Fives and Echo from the 501st used to joke. Fives, who had found out the terrible, terrible truth before all of them and died for it. Echo, out there in the middle of nowhere, on a covert ops mission with the Bad Batch.

Finally, the young man set down his teacup on the coffee table and sat down on the tooka-free armchair next to the sofa.

“Now that we’ve both got our drinks, let us continue.”

Cody nodded numbly and pulled out the holo again, setting it on the coffee table in front of the young man.

A gasp escaped him, and he was rubbing his eyes and checking his reflection the next.

At last, he stared at Cody with those deep-set blue-grey-green eyes and asked: “Is that him? General Kenobi?”

“Yes, sir.” He paused before adding. "And I am very sure that the late Duchess is your mother."

Now Korkie dropped his teacup. The shards sprang across the floor and table, cracking and scratching the smooth, clear glass. Tea spilt all over the carpet and his clothes. He suddenly went very pale.

"How do you know that?!"

His voice cut through Cody like a knife.

"I've met both, if her only briefly. You are his spitting image, but you have her name and heritage.”

He trailed off as the man opposite him went even paler. He could see the young man inch away from him, reaching for something within the pile of books. A blaster? Lightsabre? Staff? Vibroblade? Cody did not know.

"My mother, she told me the truth about her from the beginning. But she made me promise to keep up appearances, so I did. She never said _anything_ about my father. Only that he would have lo- been a good father, had he been allowed to be," he managed to bring out, his voice only shaking slightly. Typical Mandalorian. Nerves like steel.

“And now you show up and tell me you _killed_ him?! The one person in the galaxy I had left next to my aunt who thinks I’m better off holed up here?!” Cody couldn't meet his eyes. “All because he _might_ have been involved in some secret plot to overthrow an already corrupt republic?” His gaze hardened and he scoffed. All reminders of the warm, kind general - gone. “Oh, and believe me, I know all about corruption. I’ve seen first-hand what it will do to people. How others suffer from it.”

With his thin lips tightly pressed together and glaring vindictively at Cody, he was reminded of the Duchess at her worst. A shiver travelled down his spine.

It hurt. All these reminders of the general, the woman he’d loved, and just how big of a _fuck-up_ Cody was.

Something wet slid down Cody’s cheek. He buried his face in his hands.

“I know. Force-damnit, I know. I killed him. Watched him tumble down a cliff. For nothing. Literally. It was all a ploy by the Supreme Commander to gain full power. And I did nothing to stop him.”

A sob racked his body, and for once, he let himself go. All the pain and guilt, the anger, the shame, all of it, flooded out in a wave of tears.

One could have heard a feather falling as he heard the man opposite him stand up, walk around a little and sit down again.

He felt a familiar weight on his shoulder. Too often the general had rested his hand on his shoulder like that to give comfort or show his support.

Cody turned, knowing exactly what was coming for him. The auburn-haired young man had sat down beside him and rested his left hand on Cody’s right shoulder.

The kind, warm gaze had returned.

“Listen, Commander,” he began, “I must apologise. You came here willingly and told me of Master Kenobi’s demise, despite having killed him. I can see that the deed is destroying you more than any wound ever could, and...”

He trailed off. The silence returned, but not for nearly as long as the last. The young man took a deep breath and started talking again: “I-I-I forgive you. My mother was an ardent believer in the good inside of people and so am I. Or at least I try to be.” He sat down in his original seat. “I have an offer to make, Commander. I am in desperate need of a pair of eyes and ears in the Empire. I do not spend as much time in my apartments here as one would think, and despite Senator Chuchi’s trust in the Coruscant Guard, I do not feel it would be right of me to ask them. But a man of your qualifications, connections, history... Something inside of me tells me I can trust you. You would be paid for your work, if you so desire, and I would pay bail or bust you or any of your brothers that you choose to involve out of prison - should they incarcerate you for treason or such. If you agree, I must ask you for your undying loyalty.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think.

“I’ll do it.”

It could be worse. He had no true love left for the Empire, and he could use the extra money to buy the men some proper civies. Some decent food. 

Swearing his fealty to the son of Obi-Wan Kenobi was the best split-second decision he could have made. He knew a few boys in the 212th who would join this endeavour without question.

Korkie looked taken aback for a heartbeat, maybe two, before cracking a wide, warm smile.

“Thank you, Cody. You _will_ be remembered for this.”

He must have hit his head, because he swore he was seeing double.

A much older man, with a neat beard and blue eyes, was smiling at him from next to the Mandalorian and Cody silently promised him: _“I_ will _protect him.”_


End file.
